A man poked his head out of the small room at the end of the aisle, saw the corpse of his companion, screamed in terror, and ran out with a gun, the rain pouring into the hood he had pushed to his shoulder, his left hand clutching the coffee cup.

Streiff dealt with him easily, and though the rain was still heavy, the heavy smell of bed bugs, hairspray, sweat, and cheap perfume had almost become a sign - the guy was the cellar guard, and the smelly ghoul straddled his still-wheezing body in distress and walked into the gloomy little room, which was piled high with sun-dried fishing nets, empty chests, and tall wicker baskets, A whole sandwich and half of its kind had been bitten off were discarded on a wooden crate dragged to the center of the room, covered with lacquered cloth on a white background covered with yellow daisies with indistinct outlines, and the air was filled with the spicy smell of tobacco and coffee, which had been brought in a protective pot, now overturned, forming a shiny and sticky puddle on the stone floor.

It is conceivable that Jamie and two others were ordered or volunteered to bring hot food and drink to their companion who had survived the storm, and sympathetically invited him into the hut to rest and catch his breath.

Originally, he might only have had a short five to ten minutes, but now he can rest for a long time, and no one will bother him anymore.

The ghoul walks out of the hut. The torrential rain had ceased abruptly, and the water on the ground reflected the sunlight—he looked up and saw the clouds that were rapidly dissolving and scattering, like emulsion thrown into the water, spinning and galloping, from thick to thin, from thick to light—and through the gaps he could see the sky, which was very clean, pure cornflower blue.

On the left and right sides of the cellar are the warehouses of the eel keepers, and then from the end of the warehouse extend two rows of houses, at ninety degrees to the warehouse, like two straight arms, on the left is the tool room, on the right is the workers' dormitory, they circle a huge square yard, in the corner of the yard there is a man-dug well, the mouth of the well is less than a foot above the ground, there is an iron fence on it, perhaps for fear of people falling, and directly opposite the warehouse and cellar is the dining room, which is where the EALF members are entrenched - it stands to reason that The two gunshots should have caught their attention a long time ago, but until now, no one had come out of the restaurant.

There was a small jolt in the dining room, the ghoul heard the crisp sound of glass shattering and the dull sound of gunfire, there were no windows behind the restaurant, there was nothing good in the courtyard, only a small black iron door, and gray mist was coming out of the cracks.

Stryff sniffed, the smell reminding him of the momentarily confused and tear gas-containing grenades, not strong — there were still women and children in the cafeteria.

The police or the military are attacking.

The time was right, and neither had time for anything else - little Stryff wasn't in the cafeteria, he was still in the dorm, with the other two children, very safe.

Streiff turned to the dormitory, and he saw thunder and lightning.

A dense blue-white electric current rises from the ground like a stream gillnet.

***

Let's set the hour hand back a little.

It wasn't the sound of gunshots that woke Sasha from his comatose slumber, but the sudden and high-pitched canine horn - it wasn't all good for the senses, and little Stryff woke up with a terrible headache, and he pressed his forehead against the glass, which was washed away by the rain, the heat taken away by the current, and the hard, cold surface made him awake and sharp.

The dormitory was much quieter, the children were mostly taken away, and an EALF member sat at the other end of the room watching the remaining three little hostages, with a dilapidated leather case at his feet, which was not the original thing in the room, Sasha squinted at it, looked at it for about two seconds, and then looked away.

Outside the glass stood a dog, its body washed away by the rain, causing every hair to cling to its skin and muscles as closely as possible, as if it had been shaved.

It had melancholy eyes and a large, misshapen head, and Sasha recognized the dog, which belonged to Mr. Henry's family.

"What about your brother?" Sasha whispered, "Where is your brother?" ”

The dog shrugged sadly at the glass, its eyelashes covered with large drops of rainwater, as if it were crying, but then it opened its mouth, and where the rain could not reach, the roots of its yellow teeth were inlaid with fresh flesh.

"Bring me a word." Sasha pressed his hands against the glass, the faint light seeped into the glass from his palm, and the mongrel lowered his head curiously, stretched out his tongue to lick, the light was warm, and there was a sound in it, and they rushed all the way to the brain through the tip of the tongue, exploding between the lobe and the brain stem.

More important than any man, any creature, any will, a command not to be disobeyed.

Mr. Henry's dog whimpered and hung his head in obedience, and he walked away from the back of the house, with that light and that command, which every dog that came into contact with him could feel and hear, and their eyes were bloodshot, and their muscles relaxed, and their ears drooped, and their teeth were no longer itching, and they were wandering about the island lazily and blankly, and no matter what they could do, not men, or eels, nor their kind, nor the increasingly furious flutes, could no longer arouse their interest, They just want to find a dry corner or crevice to escape from the heavy rain, get a good night's sleep and go home.

The pack of dogs, which were as dense as ants, suddenly dispersed, and the action team, which had already been ordered, pounced on their target.

The attack was perhaps the most bizarre of their long or short careers, but luckily, no one was killed, thanks to the people in the agency—who had thought they were wrapped and burdened—and the information he had received was only a few words, but it was enough for him to figure out why his superiors were so secretive, and if he had been told before he had done so much that he would be operating with a group of Superman/Batman/Hulk, he would have tried to find a madman first— Between him and his superiors.

"A damn surprise."

The head of the SWAT was not happy about this, although he was saved, but these supermen were obviously extremely inexperienced and inexperienced, and at the very least, they should have taken care to add a muffler when conjuring up a pistol, and now the whole island knows that they are coming.

Frightened terrorists may begin to kill hostages immediately.

"Don't worry," Abel said, "the head is already in place." ”

One of the members of this operation team is a guy nicknamed "Flea", he can jump almost two hundred times his length in an instant like a real flea, and the area of the island of Kemara is less than one square kilometer, even if he carries an adult man, it only takes ten seconds for him to reach the eel farm in the center - he carries the head, and the head can not only be attached to others to see, hear and smell, but also feel, he can also control the actions of the possessed person for a period of time.

Of course, first he had to find the possessed one.

The leader's consciousness flickered in the dark space, ha, I found it, a poor worm in poor spirits, he was frightened by something, he vomited, and he didn't eat anything after that, the sugar in his blood decreased, the starvation hypoglycemia caused the body temperature to drop, he was confused, he behaved erratically, the leader's mental touch/hands took control of his brain silently like hot coffee seeping into ice cream, with the help of his eyes, the leader quickly confirmed the hostage's location, he marked it on the electronic floor plan, It was then teleported to the action team, including the "normals" who were also a little frightened.

It's very strange that the head of the head of SWAT thinks exactly the same, he also hopes that the members of this operation can be more "single", in short, as long as they are their own people, but no, the state and the government have always been very stingy with the "institutions", they have no law enforcement powers, they must cooperate with the police or the army, or get their permission to act, otherwise it is illegal - if they do make this mistake, many people will be ecstatic.

The leader dared to swear by his mother's grave that hundreds of crocodiles or tigers were staring at them, waiting for the slightest flaw, hole, or wound in the institution, and they would rush to tear it apart, swallow it, and leave no flesh behind.

The SWAT and HRSF team members rushed into the cafeteria, which was filled with smoke, and the leader was staring at the leader of the EALF on the Attached, who stood at the back of the crowd and pressed the remote control in his hand - nothing happened, the electronic jammer had covered the cafeteria, dormitory, and cellar. The young man with flaxen hair listened sideways, tilted his neck, smiled and picked up the canine flute and stuffed it into his mouth.

This is a new frequency.

Without warning, the spirit of the possessed person stretched out its spikes, and the leader's consciousness was jerked out by itself, but fortunately there was someone in the restaurant, and he found an attached one again in a short time.

It was a woman, the leader saw the stripped stockings, the heelless heels, the wrinkles on her hands—Mrs. Borow, who had fainted, took control of the body, endured the adverse effects of the milky gas, rolled into a barely safe position, the back of a chest freezer, and then protruded half of her head from there, and opened her eyes in agony that were full of tears and bloodshots.

Oh, look, look, what did he see?

The muscles of the EALF members were constantly expanding, swelling, swelling, from the neck to the buttocks, they fluctuated endlessly like waves, and soon ruffled through the clothes—before that, the heavy hairs pierced the skin, covering the faces, necks, bare backs, arms, and legs—the bones were crunching, and some were visibly taller, their toes scurrying out of their shoes, their fingers scraping open their gloves, their sharp, slightly curved nails as solid and sharp as knives.

Their mouths stretched forward, their cracks reaching the base of their ears, and their thick teeth resembled a row of chainsaw saws.

The boss snorted, and he found what he was looking for.

(To be continued)

Well, I'm sorry because I've been working so hard lately, the update is a bit unstable, but I'll try to find time to write - tears, growling! There is no one day off for two months! Running the construction site for seven hours a day, you can only get off work at 8 o'clock in the evening! The Mid-Autumn Festival also has to go to work normally!